A Voice to Match
by klweiss92
Summary: By mixing themes relevant to Leroux's novela and ALW's broadway musical/movie; I seek to suspend the audience in the Phantom's world. Classic PotO, retold.
1. Only For You

Chapter One –Only For You

1869

The stage was a sight to behold even with theatre lights carelessly left askew, ropes dangling in plain sight and the lack of apprehension that only an audience could convey; just moments before, twenty chorus-girls flocked the stage, perfecting their act under the careful eye of La Sorelli—the dance mistress. Now, only two beings occupied the theatre.

"Surely you can give me a name!" the dancer squealed.

"Shush Meg, someone will hear you. I-I'm afraid I cannot tell you." The other replied fidgeting with unease.

"Christine, there's nothing you can't entrust with me! I promise my lips are sealed." Meg assured, pouting in disappointment that her very own friend wouldn't share such intriguing news as who her fabled teacher could be. "Oh, will you just let it rest!" Christine snapped. Her companion shot a sly smile and shook her head. Christine couldn't help but giggle, "Fine, I'll indulge you. Only you must follow me to my dressing room, the walls have ears."

Christine led her overjoyed companion through the winding halls behind the stage to her room, sitting her friend down in front of the vanity. "Meg," she sighed, "I simply speak the truth. I don't know him by any worldly name." The young chorus girl looked at Christine in a confused awe, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Meg, I have been visited by the Angel of Music" she breathed. Meg shot her friend a quizzical look, "I'm afraid I still don't understand," she replied with a small frown. Christine crumpled to her knees as to be at eye level with Meg, grasping her hands in her own, she told her dearest friend the stories of her childhood and how her beloved father promised to send her the mysterious Angel of Music before he departed this world.

Finally content with Christine's explanation of her strange teacher and her late father's promise; Meg bid her companion goodnight, concerned that her mother must be waiting to shepherd her home.

Closing the dressing room door, sighing with relief, the young soprano plopped herself on her vanity chair, folding her arms against her head. What a headache today had been; rehearsal was unbearingly long-as the opening of _Faust_ premiered tomorrow night, and one can only take so much of La Carlotta's unpleasant voice. And Meg's badgering concerning her unknown teacher had made Christine late for her private lesson with her Angel…Would he think she forgot? Where was he? Would he abandon her and return to heaven just like she had feared night and day?

These fears circulated the young woman's head on a daily basis. The Angel promised he'd stay by her side as long as she remained a 'good girl' and heeded his every word. Christine had waited for so long for the Angel of Music to at last appear, it would only break her heart to learn he had left her just as her father had.

Suddenly, a heavenly voice rang out, "What a relief, I thought she'd never leave."

"Angel, I'm so glad you came! I'm sorry," she blushed, "I didn't mean to be late, I-"

"Christine, I could never stay mad at you." The voice stated gently. "Now, tomorrow's a big day for you, we must have you prepared." The last couple of weeks her Angel of Music had geared Christine towards memorizing La Carlotta's part. He claimed that anything could happen to the diva and since she lacked an understudy, Christine herself would be able to take her place if anything occurred. So Christine diligently practiced the lines and music that the role required.

"Excellent Christine! You've outdone yourself!" Her Angel proclaimed. Christine beamed, any praise from the Angel made her feel invincible; she craved his approval. "I know you will be splendid tomorrow night."

"Yes, as a simple chorus girl" she responded without any resentment. Even though she wanted her career to flourish, there was no need to be hasty about climbing her way to becoming prima donna of Palais Garnier. But her Angel had other plans—he promised he'd see her to the top. The voice chuckled. "Christine you will excel even your own expectations. However, it is late and you will need your rest."

"Angel, before I go I must know," she began timidly, "will you be there tomorrow…watching me?" Christine waited apprehensively for an answer. Time seemed to tick by, the seconds grew frightfully long. Anxiety began to gnaw and her insides, hoping he had not already left.

After what felt like eternity the voice answered, "My dear, I am wherever you are. Of course I will be there watching over you." The young woman smiled as a slight blush graced her cheeks.

"I sing only for you Angel," she breathed.


	2. Musings

Chapter Two-Musings

Erik watched Christine glance back at her dressing room before finally departing. For the last three months, Erik had been posing as Christine's Angel of Music, tutoring her in the finer points of song. Their time together was his favorite, more so than composing; even if she didn't know it, she made him feel like he could have a real chance at being accepted. Perhaps…even loved? No, it could never be! If only he could tell her how he felt…but he came to her as an angel, not as the Opera Ghost, or even a simple man—deformed that man may be. And it was strictly known that angels did not mingle with mortals in the realm of love. He owed it to her to live up to the standards he had set up for himself.

Oh, how his heart ached to be near her. But she could never know…Christine, his darling Christine would be repulsed by him, the monster who haunted the opera. For who would love a broken man, no, fiend, with such a horrendous deformity?

Surely not his pure, innocent Christine, who would no doubt find a handsome husband, as perfect as herself. As far as he was concerned the girl held no flaw, other than her lack of aggression; which she sorely needed if she were to ever usurp La Carlotta. He shuttered, how he loathed that toad.

Speaking of Carlotta…he would have to take care of her before tomorrow night. He'd been planning the prima donna's demise for some time now. Of course he couldn't just have her chucked out, it would have to be a gradual fall from grace. So no one—other than Carlotta and the managers of his infernal opera house—would suspect foul play.

The Phantom weaved his way through the secret passages of his domain, with vengeance embedded in his mind. Yes, Carlotta needed a dose of reality, and if not he himself didn't act, who would? His plan was ingenious…a threatening note to his managers from the Opera Ghost along with a planted bottle of ipecac laced Château Lafite that Carlotta would surely consume with her supper, as per custom before a show. Insuring Carlotta would be indisposed at making an appearance.

Coming to a hidden entrance of the Palais Garnier, the phantom slipped out of the Opera House, stealthily slinking between the shadows unnoticed by all but the imposing darkness; all the while churning the whole Christine matter in his head. She was his. Now the only problem was convincing her of that fact…and if she refused him, there was only one option available. He would have to force her, not that this had been the first time that he had strained his will onto a situation…but this was his beloved Christine, not some silly stagehand or manager that need to be manipulated.

Erik reprimanded himself; he was the phantom of the opera, after all! No feat was impossible. Erik the musical genius, master architect, political assassin; after all he had been though, this, this was simple! But perhaps that is why the situation is so delicate...due to the simplicity of it all. But no matter how Erik phrased his reasoning in his mind, he knew that this time we was truly putting his heart on the line.

XxXxXx

All the while Mamma Valérius patiently awaited her foster daughter in the parlor of their flat. The old woman had spent the majority of her day starting out the window, watching the world rush by. Lately her deteriorating health had kept her rooted in bed, considerably so, there wasn't much else to do but knit, revisit old memories and wait for Christine and her tales of the mysterious Angel of Music.

Madame Valérius was ever persistent that Christine spent as much time as possible with the good Genius, not that she needed much persuasion. Christine's angel inspired her, filled her with purpose. The child had gown from an introverted youth to a passionate, talented young woman under the care of her mysterious instructor.

Upon hearing the creak of door hinges and the mumbles of protesting floorboards, the old women knew her foster child had returned. "Christine darling, I'm in the parlor." she called out, hoping to hear more about the good Genius.

"Oh Mamma, you should be in bed at this hour! You know better to be up and about in your condition." Christine fussed, "Here, let me help you to bed." Christine gently helped the woman from the rigid couch, placed a firm arm around her shoulders and they slowly shuffled to her room.

In the last few years Mamma Valérius' health had been rapidly declining, much to Christine's anguish. She was the closest thing to a mother that Christine had ever experienced, as her biological mother died just as she entered her sixth year. Monsieur Valérius had taken Christine and her father in a few years before her fathers' untimely death, proclaiming Monsieur Daaé to be the most virtuoso musician he had ever crossed. It was all thanks to Madame Valérius and her late husband that Christine was able to join the opera and begin her career; without them she'd just be another orphan singing on the street.

Once the frail woman was settled into bed, comfortably propped up on pillows, Christine pulled up a chair to the bedside; awaiting her dear mother's explanation as to why she was out endangering her health. "Come now child, tell me all about your lesson!" Mamma Valérius exclaimed with a twinkle in her eye. Christine gave an innocent giggle, "Oh mamma! This could have waited until the morning. But I shall tell you." Christine's face lit with an ethereal glow and began to tell the old woman of her latest encounter with the Angel of Music.

"He is simply divine Christine" the old lady sighed, "How I wish I could hear his voice with my very own ears."

"Mamma, how I wish you could hear him as well. But…I'm afraid he might not stay with me much longer…" Christine confided, lowering her head and chewing her bottom lip. Lady Valérius chuckled to herself before responding, "Dear, why are you ashamed? And why ever would you think such a thing?" Knowing full well what Christine was feeling, but felt it necessary for the girl to admit her worries aloud.

"Please do not judge me harshly…but I'm afraid I've…that I've quite taken to him…" Christine muttered, lowering her head further until she was just a golden cascade of curls in the dimly lit room. "Dear, you simply must speak up. You know I've just about lost my hearing", Mother Valérius playfully scolded. The older women reached over, lightly bringing Christine's head to eye level; and grasped her slender hand. The younger's eyes welled up with tears as she said, "I'm afraid I love him…" she gasped. "Now before you say anything, I know how wrong it is for me to love an angel. I understand that he cannot love me in return, and that is why I fear his departure."

The gentle woman gave her child a full scrutinizing look. Of course Christine fell in love with her good Genius sent from heaven, how could she not, the old woman mused.

"Mamma?" Christine whispered softly, big blue eyes searching her guardian's face for reassurance.

Smiling down at her she replied, "There can be no harm in loving an angel, but nevertheless, your secret is safe with me."

Mamma Valérius bid the young woman goodnight and asked her to draw the curtains. Christine swept over to the windows and drew the pleated cloth together. Suddenly, she noticed two golden, glowing orbs just inches from where she stood. Curious, she unlatched the window and opened the frame, only to see…nothing. She scanned the surroundings of the ominous night, but still, nothing out of the ordinary caught her eye. Content that the fiery lights must have been a reflection from the lamplight; she snapped the window shut, drew the curtains, and retired to her loving bed, not knowing that in the darkness hid a shadow that saw and heard all.


End file.
